


Forget-Me-Not

by Lennelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sam Winchester, Dean is a Little Shit, Fluff, M/M, Sam is a Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lennelle/pseuds/Lennelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: sastiel + flower shop!au because what a cute setting for a cute couple.</p>
<p>Sam and enlists Dean's help to buy flowers for their mother's birthday, but did the florist have to be so damn cute?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-Me-Not

Sam had been pestering Dean for almost a week to accompany him into town to pick out a bouquet for their mother’s birthday. Finally, with two days left, Sam managed to pry Dean away from Carmen for a couple of hours.

“I’m thinking about taking her to France, Sammy,” Dean says. They’ve stopped at small coffee cart. Dean takes his black and sips at it as he takes the piss out of Sam’s vanilla cream.

“Oh, yeah?” Sam prompts. He’s heard this story three times already, he’s not really paying attention at this point because he’s trying to herd Dean down the street towards the florist. 

“She keeps going on about how it’s the most romantic place on earth,” Dean says. Sam smirks because he’s been there to witness plenty of Carmen’s hints to Dean and he’s surprised it took his brother this long to get it.

“Well, talk about a trip with her,” Sam suggests. “Or you could book it all and surprise her.”

Dean shrugs. “I’ll think about it later,” he says, but Sam can tell he's certainly thinking about it right this second. They stop outside the flower shop, taking a moment to admire the bouquets displayed in the window.

“I like that one,” Dean points to an extravagant white and soft pink bunch of flowers. 

Sam frowns. “Dude, that’s a wedding bouquet,” he says, smirking. Dean knocks him playfully on the shoulder and shoves him inside. There’s someone being served at the counter so they linger around the shop, waiting.

“Have a nice day, ma’am!” Sam hears a gravelly voice behind him. Dean catches his arm and tugs him over to the counter.

“How can I help?” the florist asks. The words go in one ear and out the other for Sam, he’s too busy staring into those ridiculously blue eyes. Seriously, there must be entirely undiscovered oceans in there.

“Uh, yeah, we need some flowers for our Mom’s birthday,” Dean says. The florist nods and turns to Sam.

“Is there anything you have in mind?” he asks.

“Pretty,” Sam blurts. “Uh, I mean, just some pretty flowers.”

He’s laughing now. Oh, God. No one even made a joke and he’s giggling like a total idiot. He tries to cover it with a cough and he ducks his head in embarrassment. He dares to glance at Dean, who is holding back a grin.

“I forgot something back at the coffee cart. Darn,” he sighs, a little over dramatically. “You can handle this, right, Sam?”

Before Sam can even protest, Dean is walking out the door. He stops in the window, giving Sam a not-so-subtle thumbs up, then he’s gone. Sam takes a deep breath and turns back to the florist.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he mumbles.

“It’s no problem, Sam,” the florist replies, amused. “I’m Cas, by the way.”

“Cas,” Sam repeats. “What’s that short for?”

Cas smiles and Sam just about melts because he’s sure it’s the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. “It’s kind of a weird name,” Cas admits. “It’s short for, um, Castiel.”

He looks at Sam like he’s waiting for him to laugh.

“I think it’s nice,” Sam says.

Cas snorts. “I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use,” he says. “My parents found it in the bible. I’m named after an angel, the angel of Thursday of all things.”

Maybe because you are an angel, Sam wants to say. He doesn’t, which is probably the only good decision he’s made in this conversation.

"Were you born on a Thursday?" Sam asks, the question popping into his head out of nowhere. He feels his cheeks flush as Cas smiles.

"Oddly enough, I wasn't."

"Huh," Sam says, because it's all he can think of at that moment.

“So,” Cas quickly changes the subject, “What kind of flowers does your mother like?”

“Something bright but kinda soft at the same time,” Sam suggests. “Does that make sense? She likes yellow.”

Cas nods. “I have an idea.” He moves out from around the counter and selects a few flowers from the pots by the window. Sam watches as he arranges them neatly and ties them together with pale blue bow.

“Is this alright?” he asks. Sam just nods dumbly. Cas smiles and sticks in a couple of small cards. “You can write a message for her on there.”

“Thank you,” Sam says. 

“Do you want to take this one now or should I make a fresh bouquet for you to come back for another time?” Cas asks.

“I’ll take it now,” Sam insists. “I really appreciate this. It’s wonderful.”

Sam takes the flowers, pays, then leaves after a rather awkwardly long handshake. Dean is waiting for him around the corner with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You get his number?” is the first thing out of his mouth. Sam shoves him and keeps walking. He really doesn’t feel like talking about it. He’d be surprised if Cas isn’t texting his friends right now about the weirdo that just came into his shop.

Two days later, Sam, Dean and Carmen are having breakfast at the family home. They all chat and laugh together, giving Mary her gifts. Sam and Dean hand over the flowers and peck her on each cheek.

“Thank you, loves,” Mary says, she sniffs one of the orchids and smiles. “These are beautiful.”

She admires the flowers for another moment before fishing the cards out of the petals. She smiles as she reads the first, then grins when she looks at the second.

“Sam,” she says, handing the second card over. “I think this is for you.”

Sam frowns and takes the paper hesitantly. He glances down and his eyes go wide. There’s a phone number scrawled across it and underneath reads:

_For Sam, the cute boy who came into my shop, would you like to go for coffee some time?_

_From Cas_.

Sam nearly trips over his chair in his haste to get up. He stumbles out of the room, pulling his cell out of his pocket, yelling over his shoulder, “I have to make a call! I’ll be right back!”


End file.
